Tinariwen: The desert spirit is all we know

Abdallah Ag Alhousseyni of Tinariwen (far right) says the group wants to visit every desert in the world (Picture: Valery Hache/AFP/Getty)

When Tinariwen guitarist and vocalist Abdallah Ag Alhousseyni opens the door of a Paris apartment, I have to double-check I’ve got the right place.

He’s dressed in jeans and a casual sweatshirt, rather than the traditional Tuareg turban/veil and robes he and his blues outfit perform in, representing their Saharan nomad heritage. Instrument cases stacked in the corner offering hints that a touring band is flitting through town.

Ag Alhousseyni hands me a glass of bittersweet Tuareg-style green tea and settles down to chat, with his manager helpfully chipping in with translations when my French falters.

Tinariwen’s global reputation has steadily flourished since their 2001 release, The Radio Tisdas Sessions, though they formed decades earlier. Recently, they played India and Chile before arriving in the French capital via Berlin (‘It was so cold,’ shudders Ag Alhousseyni).

Tinariwen’s Tamashek-language grooves, and even their name (it translates as ‘open space’), evokes their desert home, around Mali’s northern region. For sixth album Emmaar (meaning ‘the heat on the breeze’, a reference to political tensions as much as Saharan temperatures), they’ve taken that concept further, choosing to record in California’s Joshua Tree national park.

‘We always try to go deeper with our desert inspiration, because it’s the only way of life we know,’ explains Ag Alhousseyni. ‘Each time we discover a different desert, it seems new but familiar. The animals and plants might be diverse but the spirit is the same thing: the sun, the moon, the stars and the freedom of being in an empty space. The fact that you can move in any direction reminds us of home.’

He gestures around the apartment. ‘Here, you have to leave by the stairs or the lift,’ he says. ‘Perhaps our next album will be created somewhere else – we’d like to visit all the deserts on the planet.’

Tinariwen are united by their Tuareg culture (Picture: supplied)

Although their musical style feels deep-rooted (band member Eyadou Ag Leche likens it to US blues: ‘It’s the music of exile’), Tinariwen are open to collaborations. They’ve worked with international producers (Justin Adams, Patrick Votan) and are as likely to headline rock arenas as world music festivals.

‘We’re bringing a message from the Tuareg people but if you want to be understood by the diversity of the world, you have to adapt a bit,’ he says. ‘Sometimes it’s interesting to have a few words of explanation. And simplicity is important.’

‘Simple’ isn’t an obvious word that springs to mind when you see Tinariwen play live, even if their sound is gripping. There are usually at least eight members on stage on various instruments and vocals, and they’re a fairly fluid collective without a conventional frontperson.

Though they’re united by their Tuareg culture, the experiences of individual members have been broad-ranging. Ag Alhousseyni spent his teens in Algeria, while founder guitarist/singer Ibrahim Ag Alhabib (notable for his grizzled tones) joined the Tuareg rebel movement and received military training under Colonel Gaddafi’s Libyan regime.

Life has obviously changed radically for Tinariwen since then but it hasn’t been without turbulence.

‘Tuareg people are more visible than we were 30 years ago but we still have to deal with a lot of issues nowadays,’ says Ag Alhousseyni. ‘After the 2012 political coup in Mali [when military rebels overthrew Malian President Touré], there was no administration, so we still had the problems but didn’t know who to address. There’s now hope that things will be better.’

The Malian coup also posed a serious threat to musicians in the areas captured by militant faction Ansar Dine, whose subversion of Islamic law banned music, deeming it sacrilegious. Tinariwen member Intidao had a run-in with the authorities last year (he escaped unscathed), while Ag Alhousseyni felt best to lie low.

‘Luckily, most of us weren’t in the same territory as Ansar Dine,’ he recalls. ‘But I have a guitar at home and I was careful to play it really softly. And when I went out, I’d roll up my trouser legs because the Sharia law decreed that men’s trousers shouldn’t touch the floor.’

Unlike prominent Malian Muslim musicians (including ngoni star Bassekou Kouyate) who created work challenging these unfounded rules, Ag Alhousseyni seems to quietly take things in his stride; this might just be another form of ‘adaptability’ but he reasons, vaguely: ‘People can do much worse things than play music.’

It raises the question of whether it’s tricky for Tinariwen to retain a political standpoint when they’re increasingly established world entertainers. ‘It’s difficult if you become known purely for talking about politics,’ admits Ag Alhousseyni. ‘But if you’re honest, you can achieve a lot. It’s not about us, or winning Grammy awards. It’s about creating something our people can be proud of.’

Emmaar (PIAS/Co-Op) is out on Monday. Tinariwen play London Village Underground on March 6 and 7. www.tinariwen.com